


Miscellaneous Drake/Josh Ficlets

by GMTH



Category: Drake & Josh
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-13
Updated: 2009-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GMTH/pseuds/GMTH
Summary: Written for the 50Ficlets comm on LJ. The prompts will be used as chapter titles for this fic.





	1. Light and Dark

"Turn off the light." 

Josh turns the page without saying a word. 

With a sigh, Drake rolls over onto his back. "Josh." 

"No." 

"Come on!" 

"No, all right? I'm trying to study." 

Drake punches his pillow and drops his head into the middle of it with an annoyed grunt that sounds awfully close to "Jerk." 

"I heard that." 

"Good." 

Josh turns another page and stares at a photo of President Kennedy without really seeing it. He knows the real reason Drake wants him to turn out the light. It's not because it's keeping him awake; Drake can sleep through anything. Josh has lost count of how many times he's come into their room and found Drake asleep with the TV blaring or a CD playing at top volume. He sleeps through thunderstorms that could awaken the dead. On summer mornings their room is flooded with light the moment the sun comes up, but Drake rarely tumbles out of bed before noon. Comparing Josh's sixty-watt bulb to all that is like comparing a spring breeze to a hurricane. Drake isn't complaining because the light is on. 

He's complaining because the light isn't off. 

This seems like a subtle difference, Josh thinks, turning the page again and glancing absently at the pictures of Dealey Plaza, but in reality the difference is huge. Because stuff happens in their room when the light is off, stuff that never happens when it's on. Stuff they never talk about. 

Heat. And friction. Urgent kisses. Bare skin prickling with sweat. Soft gasps echoing in Josh's ears like thunder. Fingers clenching, muscles quivering, lips tracing desperate patterns on the column of his throat. 

Drake whispering his name. 

It doesn't happen every night. Drake only slips into Josh's bed when the room is inky black, without even a trace of moonlight. He's never seen Drake's face during those times. He has no idea if Drake kisses him with his eyes open or closed, no way of knowing if Drake smiles or makes faces or bites his lip when he comes. There are parts of Drake he's touched but never seen, places he's stroked and licked and teased by instinct alone. It makes him crazy that he can't see Drake's face or catch a glimpse of the warm skin shivering beneath his fingers, so crazy he sometimes has to struggle with himself not to turn on the light. Something tells him the night he gives in to that impulse is the last night he and Drake will ever have together. 

In the cold light of mornings after, Josh tells himself that might not be such a bad thing. He knows it's got to stop. It's not right. They're brothers, or nearly so. He loves Drake, but not _that_ way. Not really. Not that he'd admit aloud, anyway. The way Drake touches him makes Josh feel incredible, the best he's ever felt in his life, but the things they do together also make him feel terrible. Guilty. Afraid. And somehow so very... empty. Just thinking about it now makes his stomach tighten with anxiety, but when he rolls over to drop his book on the floor he also realizes he's hard as a fucking rock. 

His fingers tremble as he switches off the light. 

The darkness is almost a tangible thing as it presses in around him. Tonight's the night he's going to turn Drake away. He waits for the soft _swish_ of Drake throwing back his bedspread, the muted _thunk_ of his bare feet on the metal rungs of the ladder, and thinks enough is enough. He's sure Drake will thank him for it one day. After all, he must be as conflicted about it as Josh is. He changes the subject faster than a rabbit hopped up on speed whenever Josh even hints about it.

He waits, his heart thumping rapidly against his ribs. This is going to be one of the toughest things he's ever done. He takes a deep breath and thinks about what he's going to say. A shift in position sends a spike of pleasure through his belly as his erection rubs against his pajama bottoms, and his breath gets caught in his throat. 

The silence is deafening. Josh lets the breath go in a shaky stream and clenches his fingers in the sheets. He feels like he's trying to anchor himself there, as though if he lets go he might float away like some weird Josh-shaped balloon, but at the same time he feels like he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. 

Any moment now. 

There's still no movement from Drake's side of the room, and little by little Josh relinquishes his hold on the bedsheets. His stomach is still tight, but the tension has changed from anticipatory dread to something he can't immediately identify. It feels sort of like it did when he realized Drake had thrown a surprise party for Tabitha's birthday and forgotten about his. Confusion. Disappointment. 

Hurt. 

He sits up quietly and looks in Drake's direction. The shadows are too thick to make out anything but a vague outline where Drake's bed should be. Josh bows his head and closes his eyes. It shouldn't be this hard. It should be _easy_ to resist. It should be cut and dried, open and shut, a big fat no with an exclamation point behind it. But nothing is easy where Drake is concerned. It never has been. 

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Josh tosses the bedspread aside. His legs feel like jelly as he silently crosses the room. He hears Drake scooting over in bed, making room for him as he approaches. 

"I knew you'd come," Drake says, sounding far too smug as far as Josh is concerned. He cuts off Drake's gloating with a hungry kiss, determined to turn defeat into victory. It feels like Drake's lips are twisted into a smirk beneath his, and for once, Josh is thankful he can't see the expression on Drake's face.


	2. Growing Up

Two graduation tassels dangle from the rearview mirror. 

One of them, the yellow one, is Josh's salutatorian tassel. He missed the top spot by just a few points; second, as always, to Mindy. The other tassel, the red one, is Drake's. He was at the other end of the class ranking; not the very bottom, but close enough to touch it without having to reach very far. He sat at the back of the gym and spent most of Josh's speech blowing the tassel's fringe out of his eyes for the amusement of the girl sitting next to him. When the ceremony ended, Josh pushed his way through the crowd and pulled Drake into one of his bear hugs, and they freed the tassels from their mortarboards before tossing them into the air with whoops of joy. Out in the parking lot, they threw their wrinkled gowns in the back of the car and looped the tassels around the rearview mirror before zooming off to a round of parties that lasted until the sun came up. 

At first the tassels hung there separately, the strings parallel, fringes brushing against each other only when the car turned a corner. Then Drake got into the habit of twirling them around one another whenever he stopped at a red light, and now the strings are so hopelessly entwined it would take hours to separate them, if it can even be done. It would probably be easier to just cut them apart, but then they'd both be ruined so there's really no point. They're one unit now, two halves of a whole that's something different, something completely new. 

That's the way it had been growing up with Drake, Josh muses one afternoon when they're stuck in traffic on the interstate. Their lives started out running in parallel lines. Josh had always known who Drake was, of course; everyone did. But before their parents had started to date, the only time Josh ever built up the courage to talk to Drake he'd ended up in the Emergency Room with a nose full of olives. 

Sometimes he wonders what his life would have been like if his dad had never met Drake's mom. He'd probably have watched Drake from across the lobby at The Premiere, just as he'd watched him across the playground when they were kids. He might have jostled Leah out of the way so he could wait on Drake when he came to the concession counter. He'd definitely have been envious of Drake's success with girls, though not for the reason most people would probably expect. But he's also pretty sure Drake would never have thought of him as anything more than the nameless dork behind the counter at The Premiere, a guy Drake would say hi to in the hallway and then laugh about with his friends after Josh passed out of earshot. 

But their parents had met, and the parallel lines had slowly become perpendicular. They'd started hanging out, unwillingly at first, at least on Drake's part, and over time their reaction to being together had morphed from reluctance ("He's goofy. He's clammy. He's...here.") to friendship ("C'mon, man, he could never replace you. You're my brotha.") to _need_. 

Josh glances at Drake, asleep in the passenger seat next to him, and resists the urge to smooth the hair out of Drake's eyes. Now they aren't just perpendicular lines, Josh thinks, giving the tassels a twirl so he has something else to do with his hands. They're a helix, just like these two tassels. Something new and totally different together than they were apart. One unit you'd have to cut to separate, but that would ruin them both so there's really no point.


	3. Missing You

Drake was out of breath by the time he had climbed to the twelfth floor. It figured Josh would live on the top floor of a building with a broken elevator, Drake thought ruefully. His luck certainly hadn't changed. Hoisting the straps of his guitar case and overnight bag higher on his shoulder, Drake yanked the fire door open and struggled through it. It swung shut behind him more quickly than he expected, sending him stumbling into the hallway as it slammed against the neck of his guitar. He managed to right himself before he pitched forward on his face, but only just. With an irritated grunt, he adjusted the shoulder straps again and stomped off down the hallway. 

The window at the end of the hall showed a sky just beginning to grow light. The hallway was empty and quiet. Drake could hear someone's TV behind one of the doors he passed, but he had the impression the other rooms were all unoccupied. Either that, or it was too early for anyone who hadn't stayed up all night to be up and about. The sound of his worn boot heels clocking against the tile floor echoed loudly in his ears. 

A dry erase board was attached to the door of Josh's room, a plastic pen dangling next to it on the end of a long black string. Messages and obscene doodles were scrawled across the face of it. Someone -- Josh, from the looks of the handwriting -- had meticulously scrubbed a clean patch in the middle and written DO NOT DISTURB in large block letters, with THIS MEANS YOU, THOMPSON in smaller letters below. Drake shrugged so the strap of his overnight bag slipped from his shoulder, and it tumbled to the floor at his feet as he rapped sharply on the door. Nothing happened. He knocked again, more loudly this time, and a raspy voice floated out from behind the door. 

"Read the sign." 

"Josh," Drake said, pounding on the door now with the side of his fist. "Open up." 

"Get lost, I'm trying to sleep." 

Drake pounded harder. "Josh, it's me!" 

A pause, and then Josh's voice came through the door again, closer this time, as though he were standing right behind it. "Me who?" 

"Me Drake." 

"Drake? What the --" The lock clicked and the door cracked open a few inches, just enough for Drake to get a glimpse of one sleepy, red-rimmed eye. "Drake!" Josh said, jerking the door open all the way. "Whoa, dude, you surprised me. What are you doing here?" His expression grew tense. "Is something wrong at home?" 

"No, man, everything's cool." Drake bent to retrieve his overnight bag. The neck of his guitar rose up over his back as he did so, catching Josh squarely in the stomach. He staggered back with a strangled "oof," clutching his arms around his abdomen. "Sorry," Drake said, stepping into the dark room beyond. 

Josh closed the door behind him and flicked on the light. Drake took a quick look around as he set his stuff down on a chair. The room was smaller than the one they'd shared together at home, and smelled faintly of dirty sweatsocks and stale coffee. The odor was familiar and comforting, the smell of his teen years, and he inhaled deeply. The knot of tension that had been growing tighter all night started to unravel in his chest. 

"So what are you doing here?" Josh asked, rubbing gingerly at his belly. 

"I was worried about you, man." 

Josh's hand stilled. "You were?" 

"Yeah. You didn't sound so good on the phone last night." 

"So, what, did you drive all night to get here?" 

"Well, yeah. As soon as the show was over, I hopped in the car." 

Josh's lips curved in a shy smile as his eyes darted away from Drake's face down to the floor. "Thanks, brotha," he said softly, enfolding Drake in a tight hug. 

"Any time, man," Drake said, pulling away reluctantly. Josh's hugs always made things better. He'd missed that. "You know I'm always here for you." 

"Even when the 'here' is three hundred miles away?" 

Drake shrugged. "You'd do the same for me, right?" 

"Sure I would." 

"Okay, then." Drake sat down on the edge of Josh's bed and started pulling on one of his boots. His feet were killing him. "So what was wrong with you last night, anyway?" 

"Um," Josh replied, looking suddenly embarrassed, and Drake dropped the boot to the floor with a puzzled frown. Josh gave a uncomfortable laugh. "Wow, this is awkward," he said. 

"What?" Drake said. He gulped. "You didn't get Mindy -- she isn't --" 

"No," Josh said swiftly. " _No._ Nothing like that." 

"Then _what,_ man? Spit it out!" 

"All right! Um, it's just... I was hungry, see. You called right after my last class and I hadn't eaten since breakfast and I was, um... just trying to get off the phone so I could... order a pizza." 

Drake blinked. "A pizza." 

"Yeah. With pepperoni." 

"Pepperoni." 

"And sausage?"

"Josh!" 

"I'm sorry, man! How was I supposed to know you were going to come all the way up here?" 

Drake blew his bangs out of his eyes with an irritated sigh. 

"You mad?" Josh ventured, wincing.

Drake studied him for a moment. "No," he said at last. His tone sounded severe but he couldn't suppress the smile starting to form around the corners of his mouth. He shook his head. "Did you leave me some, at least?" 

Josh pointed to the garbage can, where a pizza box was wedged corner first. "Sure. Help yourself." 

"Fuck you, dude," Drake said, laughing. "I tell you what. I'm gonna catch a few hours of sleep, and then you are taking me out for some breakfast." 

"I have a class --" 

"Breakfast!"

"Okay, okay. Breakfast. No need to freak out." Josh grinned. "I forgot how cranky you can get when you don't get enough sleep. Jeez."


End file.
